For Letter or Worse

by Vivian Conroy

  Marc shot upright. “Really? That would be… Bye then. Talk to you later.” And he raced out of the door.

  Hazel laughed softly. “The pie does taste better when he is not around.”

  “He seems to be full on top of this.” Delta stared at the closed door.

  “Nothing much of interest happens in Tundish. This is his chance. Also to aggravate his father, who will be chasing the same leads.”

  Delta hemmed. “Marc could be onto something with that will. I understood from what Drake said about his sister that she had left her husband only a short while ago, because he was spending her money and was unfaithful to her. The husband then spread false stories that made her lose her job and come here to Tundish to start over. Maybe she never thought to change her will. It’s not a pleasant subject to think about.”

  “Plus, it costs money to change it,” Hazel said. “And if she made a joint will with her ex, like Marc suggested, she might have figured she couldn’t even change it without him finding out. Maybe she thought she’d have time off here to think things over and make decisions without him coming after her.”

  “Only she never got around to that, and now he inherits the lot.” Delta nodded slowly. “That’s some motive for murder. We have to find out if there was anything to inherit. If it made it worthwhile to…”

  “Kill her?” Hazel shivered. “I think her brother would know or could guess, but we’re not going to ask him. It would be rude.”

  “Agreed. I’ll let Jonas know about this possibility, and he’ll have to follow up on it. He has PI friends, so who knows what they can turn up?”

  Delta finished her pie. “This is delicious. I’ll pop over to the bakery to tell Jane. I won’t be long. We really need to unwrap all that new stock and give it a nice place.”

  She left the shop and crossed the street. At Mine Forever, a radio was blasting from the roof, and the same man from the other day was working on cleaning the mining utensils. Delta grimaced at the tearing electric guitars from his music and hurried into the bakery. Several customers were waiting for their turn, but Jane’s daughter was helping, and Jane gestured to Delta to step into the back a moment. Under her apron, she wore one of her trademark, long dresses with an intricate, French-lily pattern. Her dark hair was braided, and the braids were rolled around her head. She leaned over and asked, “Are you all right? I heard from someone you fell off your bike. He had seen it in passing as he went up to the Lodge to deliver something. He wanted to stop to see if you were okay, but there was a girl with a dog going over to you, so he figured you had help if you needed any. His delivery was rather an urgent thing, food that had to go into the Lodge’s breakfast offering so…”

  “That’s totally fine. I wasn’t injured or anything. Just this.” Delta gestured across the left side of her face. “And yes, Zara Kingsley came over to help me, mainly because it was one of the dogs she was walking who caused it all.” She sighed. “Those poodles are really naughty.”

  Jane nodded. “I heard Lena is spoiling them, treating them almost like her children. They sleep on her bed, and they pinch food from the kitchens, and nobody is allowed to say anything about it or she gets upset and cries.”

  She hesitated a moment and then continued, “It’s a nasty thing to repeat, but some people claim she loves her dogs more than she does her husband.”

  “I really don’t know. I barely saw her yesterday. And Calvin Drake wasn’t at the party, so I couldn’t see the dynamics between them.” Delta recalled the dashing young man by Lena’s side, smiling at her, unwrapping gifts for her and playing the crowd, both before and after the sinister perfume bottle had been discovered. “When she went to unwrap the gifts, she was with her husband’s nephew, though. I think his name’s Randall Drake?”

  “Oh, him. He came over in a gorgeous old car. A black Buick Electra with those fins on the back. Took it to the local garage to have them check it over. They were salivating. An icon from the fifties, their head mechanic called it. Told me that Randall Drake is quite a normal guy, even though he has money.”

  “What does he do?” Jonas had mentioned that Randall was a software engineer, but it couldn’t hurt to check that information.

  “I don’t think he has to do anything, job-wise, I mean. He has money from his family.”

  “Oh, but Calvin is a self-made man, right? He earned his wealth from his design company?”

  “That’s right. He had to fend for himself, because his father disinherited him when he was younger. Everything went to his brother, Randall Drake’s father. Imagine what he must have felt.” Jane shook her head. “It had been all over Marc LeDuc’s website when Calvin bought the villa here. Something about an eerie resemblance between his fate in life and that of the industrialist who originally built the villa.”

  “Oh.” Delta filed this tidbit away to look into later. Who had built that villa, and why would there be a resemblance between that person and Calvin? “Judging by that inheritance matter, you’d expect Calvin wouldn’t be on very good terms with Randall then. Doesn’t he blame him that he got everything handed to him on a silver platter while Calvin had to work for it?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe Lena convinced Calvin to reconcile with Randall? After all, Calvin doesn’t have any contact with his own children from his first marriage.”

  “So, Randall is like a sort of surrogate son to him?” Deep in thought, Delta touched her cheek. Ouch! She retracted her hand quickly. “Maybe he can help Zara with those dogs, since he’s so close to the couple. I advised Zara to walk them in the forest behind the villa where there isn’t a road, but she said she was worried she would also be murdered. She seems to think the killer was a maniac lurking in the trees, waiting for victims.”

  “Could be.” Jane pursed her lips. “This wouldn’t be the first tourist town to draw in criminals. Usually it’s con men with sob stories meant to empty an unsuspecting lady’s pockets, or credit card fraud. But it could be more serious this time.”

  Delta tilted her head. “You don’t believe the murder was meant to dispose of Sally Drake specifically? I mean, that it was done by someone she knew?”

  “I don’t know. I heard from all around she was this nice, quiet person who wouldn’t hurt a fly, so why would anyone hate her and hurt her? It seems to make no sense.”

  “I’ve heard that before, about her being so nice and all, but when Lena was unwrapping her presents, Sally gave her a decidedly evil look. Whether it was resentment or jealousy, I can’t tell, but it felt like they didn’t get along. Well, anyway, your meringue pie was delicious, and you should start selling it pronto so we can buy it. And keep your eyes and ears open to let us know anything you might pick up. Jonas asked me to help as…uh…it seems West might be in some trouble. Calvin is angry that the murder happened after the police arrived at the villa, and he wants to complain and make life hard for West.”

  “Jonas told you that? And he wants us to help West? I thought they didn’t get along.”

  “They don’t, but Jonas never meant for West to get into trouble because of the call he placed to the station about that perfume bottle. He feels responsible for all this.”

  Jane nodded pensively. “If only we knew who had put that on the table. All the guests put their presents there, right? Wasn’t there a camera somewhere that could have picked it up? Most villas have security, right?”

  “I suppose if there is footage, the Drakes will turn it over to the police. I have to run. Hazel is waiting for me with a ton of new stock. See you later.” Delta left the bakery, mulling over the new information she had learned. Calvin had been disinherited by his father and all the money had gone to his brother. How about their sister, Sally? Had she played a part in the situation that led to the disinheritance? How had she felt about meeting Randall at the villa? Could there have been tension between them?

  And did the close relationship between Lena and
Randall factor into the murder? If Lena had urged Calvin to reconcile with his nephew, like Jane had suggested, only to discover that Randall was now awfully close with his wife, this could have caused major friction. Had Calvin stayed away from the party for that reason, not wanting to see Randall play master of the house? Or to give Jonas a chance to see something incriminating? He had suggested the danger might come from close to home.

  She had to write all of this down into what Jonas had called “a nice concise overview.”

  Chapter Six

  “So that was the last package.” Hazel sighed as she stretched her back and waved her arms in the air.

  “Good.” Delta let her gaze roam across the glass jars with washi tape atop what had once been the cot in a prisoner’s cell. She grinned as she pointed at the new washi tape with a panda design. “I bet that will be a hit. We should already order more.”

  “Did it this morning.” Rolling back her shoulders, Hazel walked to the window and peered out into the street. “Didn’t you say something last night about the Paper Posse speculating about the ladies from an interior design agency here in town? Possible cooperation with Calvin Drake gone wrong and such, them being vengeful?”

  “Yes. Lydia and Clara from LyCla Design.” Delta nodded. “How come?”

  Hazel pointed out of the window. “That’s their car on the other side of the road. It has their logo emblazoned on the side. I thought you might run over and ask them to have a look inside here. Just a free consultation about changes to our interior design?” She underlined “free” with a cheeky wink.

  “I doubt anything they do will be for free,” Delta said, studying the BMW with a tasteful golden logo. “And can we really pretend to be listening to pro tips for bigger lamps or different carpet, while we throw in supposedly innocent questions about their relationship with Calvin Drake and the murder of his sister? I have a feeling they will smell a rat in a heartbeat.”

  “There’s one of them now,” Hazel exclaimed. “You have to do it.”

  A tall, dark-haired woman in a purple pantsuit exited the bakery and headed to the car. Delta recalled Jane sharing in the Paper Posse message group that the women loved sweet treats and were regulars at the bakery. Delta dashed from Wanted’s entrance and managed to reach the BMW as the woman was about to close the door. “Excuse me. Jane”—she gestured at the bakery—“mentioned you to us. That you have this design agency and all. I’m new to town. I help Hazel run Wanted. I’d love for you to give a professional opinion about the store. Just have a look to see what we might change, to make it more on trend?”

  The woman’s immaculate eyebrows rose a moment as if she wasn’t quite sure about the request, but then her face relaxed in an accommodating smile. “Of course.” She got out of the BMW and extended her hand. “Clara Ritter, of LyCla Design.”

  “Delta Douglas.” Delta got a whiff of an expensive perfume. She shook Clara’s hand with a vague sense of guilt, because Hazel and she had no intentions of changing anything about the shop and certainly wouldn’t spend serious money on it. “You do have to understand,” she rushed to add, “that we are a small business and we can’t afford to uh…”

  “Splurge on expensive changes.” Clara flashed her pearly smile again. “Of course not. We’re aware of that. As a small-town agency, we try to offer what a big-city agency would for prices that are affordable to the local business owner. Often, the end costs depend heavily on how you have the work done. What workers you engage and what materials you choose. I’ll come over and have a look right away if that’s okay with you.” She swung her purse over her shoulder with energy.

  “Perfect,” Delta said, resisting the urge to show too much enthusiasm and give herself away.

  Clara locked the car and followed her to Wanted in a clatter of her high heels. “Such a nice, authentic old building,” she gushed. “And you’ve kept it all in that old-West style, I see.”

  “Yes, that’s what makes Tundish so charming, don’t you think? I came here from Cheyenne, where I worked in advertising. I hear Lydia and you aren’t locals, either?”

  Clara shook her head. “We moved here three years ago. It seemed like a risky move to some, but it turned out very well for us. We recently did a renovation on the community center’s boardroom.”

  “Yes, so I heard. And with all the villas by the lake getting bought by rich holidayers, you must be swimming in assignments. Aren’t you working with Calvin Drake as well? I was at his home just the other day.”

  Clara seemed to tighten a moment, her friendly expression setting. But her voice was steady as she replied, “We haven’t worked on his home. He has his own company, after all. His sister wants to join in, as does his wife. Enough voices clamoring about how it should all turn out. I don’t think we should try and mingle in that.”

  “Well, his sister won’t be joining anything anymore,” Delta said in a light tone, but keeping her eye on the other’s features. “She died yesterday.”

  “I read about it.” Clara nodded. “It was probably a heart attack. She was under a lot of stress because she lost her job at some art museum, and her marriage was over too.”

  “Oh, you knew her personally?”

  “No, Calvin, I mean Mr. Drake, told me, in passing.” Clara flushed. “He was very worried about her. I’m so sorry for him.” Her voice was unsteady a moment, and Delta wondered if Clara had been the LyCla partner seen with Drake and sparking gossip about a relationship.

  “The newspapers are writing it was murder. Didn’t you have time to read them this morning? I can imagine you lead a very busy life.”

  “Probably Marc LeDuc, trying to make more of it than it was. He desperately needs exposure for his online newspaper.” Clara snorted. “I wonder if he ever completed any kind of journalism degree. He seems to be very free with his facts.”

  “Yes, well, he claims that people love to hear opinions, not necessarily facts.”

  “It can be very hurtful,” Clara said.

  Her tone made Delta perk up. Was Clara worried about Sally Drake’s murder harming Calvin Drake, with whom she might be close, or was she referring to something else? Had Marc also written about the LyCla Design agency? Maybe about the controversy over their renovation of the community center’s boardroom? She’d have to look online to check and see.

  They entered Wanted, and Hazel came over to shake Clara’s hand. “So nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you. Of course, I did most of the changes here myself and…I hope it’s not too bad by your standards.”

  “Not at all.” Clara looked around. “You kept it all in one theme, which is good. Too many different things can make it look disjointed. I would have opted for more airiness, probably. One white wall can do so much for a room. And light…” She glanced up. “A few nice industrial lamps would change the whole atmosphere of the place.”

  “Industrial?” Hazel mouthed to Delta, who grimaced. Clara was walking around, measuring spaces with her widespread hands and muttering to herself.

  “Did you also come to Lena Laroy’s party yesterday?” Hazel asked.

  “I was invited, but I had to cancel, as I had this important business meeting out of town.” Clara flashed a quick and not very sincere-looking smile. “Lydia went, though. You might have seen her?”

  “I don’t know her by sight,” Hazel said. She threw Delta an excited look. So, one of the two ladies of the design agency had been at the party. Delta bet Hazel was wondering the same thing as she was. Had Lydia put the sinister perfume bottle on the gift table? Marc LeDuc had claimed that both Lydia and Clara hated Drake and had vowed to chase him out of town. But if Clara had been close with Drake, maybe she didn’t hate him quite so much, and Lydia had decided to take action on her own.

  Hazel said, “I think Lena Laroy is ever so elegant and charming. I had so little chance to talk to her really. You must have asked her sometime about her mod
eling career.”

  “Actually, no. I guess it gets very tiresome for her to talk about it over and over. She’s done with that really.”

  “Her perfume line then?” Delta noticed that the woman’s shoulders stiffened a bit at the word “perfume,” but that could also be her imagination.

  “Sorry, no.” Clara shook her head. She eyed Delta. “Shall I make a design idea for your shop? It’s merely a concept, you need not let us do the actual work if you don’t like it. It only costs a hundred dollars.”

  Delta glanced at Hazel. Hazel glanced back.

  “That’s a deal then,” Clara enthused. She snapped a few pics with her state-of-the-art phone and then clattered to the door on her high heels. “I’ll mail it to you in a few days. Bye.”

  Hazel exhaled slowly. “A hundred dollars for the little she told us.”

  “We do know Lydia was at the party.”

  “We could have found out about that in a cheaper way, I’m sure.”

  “At least we’ll hear what she thinks it needs. We won’t give them the assignment, but if we do like elements of it, we can buy a lamp or two, I suppose.” Delta looked around. “I couldn’t quite determine whether her praise was genuine, or she hated everything about this place but didn’t want to tell us.”

  “I don’t know if personal taste even factors in these people’s evaluations. Maybe they can see a concept and how it should turn out. Based on the building, the space, existing elements. I think it’s fascinating.” Hazel’s expression turned dreamy. “I would have wanted to do something creative like that.”

  “Yeah, but you’re always at the heart of a discussion. What one person loves, the other thinks the ugliest imaginable. Anyway, we have to wait and see what she comes up with. I’m going to sit down now and open a new case file. I wanted to do it when I came in from the bakery, but then you sent me out after Clara.”